Waiting for a Reason
by Lady of Misrule
Summary: Based off a tumbler prompt - by Jemma-Ward "Arrow AU; After Isobel is arrested for trying to kill Oliver and take over QC, the company is in desperate need for some good publicity. Per the PR department's suggestion that he settle down with someone, Oliver talks Felicity into being his fake fiance until the latest PR crisis is over. Little do they know that Thea, cupid in disguise,
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One – Boardroom Bride**

Oliver Queen, was not an easy man. Not when it came to surprises at least.

Standing where he was, after five years of torment on an island known as purgatory, it was hardly surprising that this billionaire playboy by day and a caped crusader by night didn't shock easy.

Which was why when Oliver Queen, CEO of Queen Consolidated, found himself repeating his Public Relation Department's Head of Staff, in front of his ex-step-father, his baby sister, his pseudo-driver and a very particular blonde IT girl from MIT – he managed to do so with very little grace.

"And just how," he asked scathingly, "- would you propose I do that? A mail order bride perhaps?"

Diggle roughly cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on a point deliberately above Oliver's own head, no doubt to avoid the self-same glare Oliver had shot him mere seconds earlier.

"Actually Sir," stammered the now slightly uncomfortable Head of Staff, looking to Walter for encouragement, who's sage nod seemed to be a saving grace, because the man now turned back to his very own over six feet of a not-very happy CEO and clarified, in a voice so low, that Oliver had surely misheard.

"Excuse you?" Oliver asked lethally, ignoring the soft gasp that had echoed through the room.

"…Well… , has a particular charm…and…"

"And?" repeated Oliver, his hands itching for his bow as he drew himself to his feet, to tower dangerously over the bespectacled old man, finding it particularly satisfying when he seemed to scuttle behind Walter like a scared rat.

Unfortunately, the man behind whom the rat had chosen to 'hide' was neither as easily intimidated nor as unconvinced as Oliver. His soft British brogue, "The man may have a point," he calmly pointed out, turning his gaze not to Oliver but to his favorite Queen Consolidated employee, "Ms. Smoak, I can understand how this may sound above and beyond the call of duty, but regrettably, I find myself forced to ask you if – "

"You don't have to answer him Felicity." Snapped Oliver, his temper now about to reach boiling point as he watched Felicity's face drain of all color, in ways it hadn't even when Count Vertigo had held a double syringe of Vertigo to her exposed throat. "Do you even hear yourself Walter?" he continued, with slamming his palm into the heavy wooden table with barely restrained force. "Felicity is one of us – and you are asking her to – "

"Actually Oliver, that is exactly why I'm asking her." Walter explained, his calmness making his claim seem almost reasonable, as he continued to explain, "Oliver, your image is that of a fickle, irresponsible playboy, who I add regrettably is practically a professional dropout – your competitors are going to have a field day with you. What the PR Team needs to do now is to be able to contrast you with someone who is the exact opposite, they need to show stability, responsibility and quite frankly someone who can is smart enough to put most of the Board of Directors to shame , and most importantly is loyal to us, to _you _– "

"Walter, I appreciate what you are trying to do, I really do, but even if I did agree to any of that, it wouldn't make a difference, because for one thing me and Felicity aren't - "

"Felicity and I." mumbled the still shell-shocked blonde to his right, only to earn herself the look she generally was subject to only when she managed to step into a particularly uncomfortable double entendre.

"Felicity and I," he continued, not noticing the bright grin that began to spread across Thea's face, or Walter's partial grin, or even the way Diggle happened to quirk his brow ever so slightly. "-are not and have never been involved – which any PR team worth its salt would figure out in hours."

"Actually," piped up the Head of Staff yet again, "Rumor's about Ms. Smoak and yourself Sir, have been making the rounds for over a year now, you have even been photographed together numerous times, even more so since you hired her as your 'secretary' which everyone–"

"Executive Assistant." Snapped Felicity pushing herself out of her chair and dragging a hand through her hair as she attempted to process everything that was being said.

"Yes, well my point was that everyone already knows about the two of you Mr. Queen, the PR Department has been paying off tabloids to keep it under wraps, and if you don't mind my saying Sir, you could really use the positive press right now. Your investors need to see stability, security, and well …that you've settled down."

Just as Oliver opened his mouth to deliver a particularly cutting setback to the idiot who happened to be Head of PR, Felicity's voice cut through, with a tellingly sharp quaver.

"Gentlemen? Mr. Queen and I are going to need the room for a minute." She nodded at Diggle, who immediately turned to usher the other two men out of the room, and turned back for Thea only to be told smugly that she was hardly a gentleman. Just as Oliver had been about to ask her to leave however, Thea rose graciously from her seat, and passed by her brother, her hand on his arm as she looked back at Felicity, "Ollie, I don't want to lose the company – it's all we have left of them." Her uncharacteristic plea, earning her a sharp nod of acknowledgement, before she left.

Their last memory of their parents, and all of it, he realized hung on one, very blonde, very inappropriate and currently very worried, young lady.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two – Smoak Screen**

* * *

Felicity Meghan Smoak, liked to believe that she was a pretty open minded person. Tracking down shipments of arrows, helping save masked vigilantes, titanium door ripping mega-humans, fleets of super scary assassins all of that and she still wasn't fazed.

Today however, Felicity was quite definitely fazed.

Initially, Felicity hadn't really given much of a damn about what Oliver's crazy PR Head had had to say. Which was hardly surprising since, this man was singularly responsible, for drowning her in epic levels of office contempt, every time she had so much as tried to get herself a cup of coffee since she'd become Oliver's glorified secretary.

The irony that his entire plan to salvage the company image for Queen Consolidated, now hinged on that self-same glorified secretary was not lost on her.

The man wasn't exactly dumb, she grudgingly admitted, as she reasoned through his logic, he basically wanted to get ahead of the gossip she and Oliver had become central talking points of, by taking the sleazy 'boss-secretary affair', and turning it into some sort of romance novel, the redeemed playboy, who fell for his 'Girl Friday', and having lost his family was now trying to save the company they had left behind. It wasn't a particularly great spin story, but it was definitely better than, the drop-out playboy, still lusting after the sister he'd cheated on with another sister, before God 'smote' them, which was probably what the other team was going to go with.

Her hands twisting nervously in her lap, Felicity, carefully began to smooth down her skirt, wondering for the umpteenth time, if her skirts really were too short, as Ms. Russian Roulette, had claimed, only to have her chin tipped up gently, her eyes meeting icy blue one's less than a foot away.

"You still don't have to do this Felicity."

"I can't not."

And just like that, the ragged catch in her voice, as she ended her sentence, tore at him. He never wanted to put her through this – never wanted to use her, not when she was so vulnerable, not when she was one of the few people who he knew really cared.

"I wish there was another way."

A vision of Laurel Lance, flashed before Felicity's eyes, "I'm sure you do."

"Feli…- "

"Let's just not," she cut in, looking at his shoulder instead of at him, "bother with a bunch of meaningless explanations. I'm pretty sure I've heard them already," she added, with another one of her self-deprecating smiles, thinking back to that mega-awkward Isabelle Rochev conversation, Post-Russia.

Just one look at Oliver's face and the grimace now firmly in place assured her that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Look," She said, pushing herself out of her chair as she carefully approached a jaw clenched Oliver, only to place her hand on his forearm, as she always did, " All I want is, for you to promise me, that when this farce ends, we do it on my terms, no going with what the PR Team suggests – cause let's face it we all know how that one's going to end and …I'd really just rather be an amiable ex, instead of another notch in Oliver Queen's bedpost, who he got bored with and cheated on with an impossibly gorgeous leggy brunette, cause you do prefer brunettes right? Not to mention if, I continue to work for you, which I would really like to do if you don't mind, or at least go back to IT, I would totally get it if it was weird if I stayed on as your Executive Assistant booking your new dates and ….and…um..." she faltered painfully as Oliver closed the gap between them, curled his hand around hers and used his free hand to push her glasses back up her nose, as if he had done it a million times before, before bending down ever so slightly and pulling her into a crushing hug of what felt like intense relief, as he solemnly whispered, "I promise, Felicity."

For a second, Felicity let herself pretend that they were in very different circumstances.

Only to have Diggle, cough discreetly, as he came back in.

As if shocked by lightning, not that she was thinking of lighting which was actually something she associated more with Barry, who was hardly going to be on her mind while she ended up extracting herself from Oliver's arms, only to tug self consciously on her skirt as he cleared her voice and added in what still came out in a decidedly squeaky tone, "Right, then…um…let's get back to getting engaged?"

* * *

_Four Hours Later,_  
_The Boardroom, Queen Consolidated._

* * *

"…..Guys…guys…guys...GUYS!"

Surprised Thea looked up, as did the rest of the now damningly quiet boardroom, from where she was sitting perched on the corner of the table, in the middle of a heated argument with Walter about how big the engagement party should be, and which designer needed to be contacted for Felicity's engagement gown – she was leaning towards a classic bride-ish Vera Wang outfit, to tantalize the press with.

"I know I'm just the fiancé here," Felicity quipped, her nervous laugh, echoing awkwardly through the room as she swiftly added, "…but…I think you guys are going about this all wrong. It's an engagement not a Ball – does it really need to be this elaborate?"

"You realize we are Queen's –" Thea pointed out, "… we don't really do not-elaborate."

"No you don't," agreed the blonde, only to put Thea uncomfortably on point as she added, "Flaunting your wealth has always been something you guys just – do, but aren't we working on changing that exact image?"

Walter leaned back, carefully turning towards Felicity's obviously strained voice, wondering they hadn't made a mistake and pushed the young lady too far. She wasn't Oliver's usual fare, and as such hardly suited to deal with the practical elements of the arrangement. Before, however, Walter could voice any of his doubts, the young blonde, with a swift apologetic look towards both him and Thea cut in –

"Look, we all want the same thing here – but, maybe we should try a different approach this time. I mean, I know, I'm not the social maven here," she admitted with a roll of her eyes, "- but if the entire point is to have a more relatable, stable Oliver Queen, who is as far removed from his party-playboy persona as can be – how does announcing he's engaged at a MET level Gala do that?"

"Go on." Encouraged Walter as he steepled his hands in front of him, the image 's laid out before them, vividly in his mind.

Clearing her throat, Felicity distracted herself with the Queen Consolidated logo she was tracing with the nib of her ballpoint pen, and continued, with her babble-rant, careful to keep her eyes off Oliver and definitely far away from Diggle, who seemed to just know every time here feelings weren't entirely platonic in terms of their pseudo-Bossman.

"I just think…that…if we really want to make Oliver come off as a changed man, he needs to be seen acting like one. Like a regular citizen. No elaborate announcement, no Gala, just a simple diamond ring, nothing flashy, a stroll down to the pier and ….maybe a pint of mint-chocolate chip."

The second Felicity Smoak's mentioned the 'pier', Oliver realized with a flash of insight entirely uncharacteristic of him, exactly what she was up to. She didn't just want to make him come off as a regular guy, she wanted to contrast him with the man he had been, to revisit and basically rewrite the past – his past – the dock, the simple ring, the low profile - she wanted it to be the exact opposite of what his relationship with Laurel had been.

For the briefest of moments, Oliver found himself wondering what it would have been like if it was real – Felicity and him – what would it have been like, to be with a woman so oblivious not only to his name and wealth, but to social constraints and acceptability. How different would he have been – if he'd known her before?

His eyes taking everything from her stiff smile all the way down to her fidgety pink-panda faced flats, Oliver, shushed Thea's protest with a firm shake of his head, instead siding with Felicity, nodding at her as he said, "It sounds perfect. But - "

"But?" she intoned woodenly.

"But, if we really want this to work, we are going to have to take a few days and prepare before tipping the Press off,"

She nodded sagely, only to freeze seconds later as he added, " …and we are going to have to move you into Queen Mansion - With me."

Notes:

If you liked what you just read - take a second to feed the muse! My muse has a particular liking for comments, they tend to make me want to write so much faster - you'll notice that this update is literally practically twice the size of the first. #hinthint Go on - push the button, Kudos and Comments are all we get folks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – Arrow through her Heart [Part I]**

* * *

_Hours Later,  
The Foundry, The Glades._

* * *

"You do know," Interjected a particularly brutal John, as he ducked one of Oliver's fancy martial arts moves with a simple boxing feint, "- what you are doing," only to insert a quick right jab of his own, "_Right_?"

Using his forearm to block the jab, Oliver stepped back shifting his weight to his left leg as he let Diggle advance on him, expecting to spar for another minute or two, only to fall flat on his bottom as Diggle in a shockingly unsportsmanlike move swept a foot under him and sent him crashing onto the mat.

Shocking – until he saw the look on Diggle's face, as the other man crouched down mere inches away and in a decided break from character point out succinctly -

"This is Felicity, Oliver. Not one of your crazy ex-girlfriends. Not some casual fling you _do_ and walk away from. Not someone who knows how to play the game. This is Felicity. I don't care how many deals she agrees to or for that matter, what she 'volunteer's' for – hurt her and I will hurt you. And don't think for a second I'll need an arrow to do it."

For a moment, it was almost as if the Foundry walls echoed, with John's voice.

And in that moment, Oliver, was suddenly awash with thoughts of all the many ways this media ploy could possibly go wrong. For a second he almost decided to put a halt to it. Not because of Diggle's threats, but because of what he'd said – this _was_ Felicity – and he knew very well why Diggle was so protective, why she was more vulnerable than most when it came to filling a faux fiancé position with him.

She may have agreed, but D in tenth grade algebra or not, even Oliver wasn't dumb enough not to know that her agreement wasn't purely a show of friendly solidarity. With her it had always been more. Walter had mentioned this was above and beyond, but the truth was she had always gone above and beyond when it came to him. And he knew why. Just as he knew he didn't deserve it – not from her, not when he had nothing to give back.

_Did_ he know what he was doing? He raked a hand through his hand, as he looked over at her empty seat, _God_ he hoped so.

* * *

_Meanwhile,  
Oliver's Room, Queen Mansion._

* * *

Without Oliver in it, there was something about Oliver's room that made Felicity feel very uncomfortable.

Her eyes sweeping from brocade curtains of dark green, to the white half-pillar-ish things looming in each corner of the room. The dull blue walls somehow making the heavy wooden bed stand out prominently, and all of a sudden, Felicity felt oddly dwarfed in the massive suite. Somehow she realized, even though the opulent surroundings seemed to fit in with the Oliver Queen image, it didn't seem to fit him. Not the him she knew.

Fidgeting with the black elastic hair band on her wrist, Felicity, found herself turning in a slow circle thrice before she felt like she'd actually finished taking in the room. It was singularly unremarkable – she'd realized with a jolt of disappointment.

Nothing in it was personal - a few globes, a couple of priceless paintings, some of the strangest lamps she had ever seen and a few photo frames and books – but nothing truly personal. Nothing that would make you think it was Oliver's room as opposed to any other billionaire scion, or so she thought, given that she hadn't actually been in any other billionaire scion's room. And now, for some strange reason, she felt herself clutching her coat a little tighter around herself in the already centrally heated room.

Her hands tracing the white stone carved fireplace, she let her thoughts wander back to a particular conversation from the boardroom earlier that day.

_It hadn't been news to Felicity that Oliver Queen could be particularly persuasive when he wanted to be. But even so it hadn't taken him very long in that boardroom to convince her and every other person there that there was no way anyone was going to buy into their 'whirlwind' courtship, if they were living halfway across the city from each other. Oliver Queen would never, not have already moved in with the woman he was in love with. Plus, he'd added to her in a hushed undertone, if they couldn't speak at the office about 'their nights' they had to have some other place to do it. _

Well not do _it. _He hadn't said do _it_. Oh for the love of God wasn't it bad enough she did the double entendre's aloud?

Just then, her eyes fell atop the luggage that had been brought up to the room for her, and she reached out and lugged it over to the massive wooden wardrobe. It was the oddest feeling she realized as she opened his wardrobe and pushed his hangers to a side to be making way for her own additions to it. It was such a couple-y thing to be doing, she realized with a jolt, her fingers skimming down the lines of one of his perfectly starched white dress shirts.

She was being stupid she knew. But there was something about his room that she did not like and it was more than just the fact that it didn't feel like it was his. It wasn't as if she didn't understand why the room was so absent of any trace of his alter-ego, but even so, the real Oliver, the Oliver that had returned from Lian Yu, was so much more than just the Arrow, or this playboy persona and this room seemed to deny all of that and more.

* * *

_Hours Later,_  
_Queen Mansion_

* * *

Thea Queen was about as far from naïve as it was possible to be as a Queen.

Which she admitted, having seen her mother murdered in front of her eyes, and Malcom Merlyn as a father wasn't saying much. This wasn't about her though. This was about her though. It was about Ollie.

And Ollie despite everything he'd done and been through – was _good_ and Felicity Smoak made him better.

She hadn't been the only one to see how she constantly built him up. How she'd been there for him, crying for him when he couldn't cry for himself, believing in him when the no one else did, when they had only seen him defined by his past or his bank accounts.

Somehow, Felicity always seemed to be there for Ollie, in all the ways she tried to be there for Roy. In ways her father, her _real_ father, Robert Queen had been there for his family and Walter after him. Oliver needed that. Even if he couldn't see it. Even if he was just doing it to save the company – he needed her.

Her eyes turning to the stairs her brother had just bounded up, Thea felt the shadow of a smile touch tilt her lips.

If nothing else – he needed the hope she embodied. They all did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three – Arrow through her Heart [Part II]**

* * *

_Later that Night,_

_Oliver's Room, Queen Mansion._

* * *

Oliver Queen, wasn't really an emotional type of guy. Five years away from home, spent split between a island known as 'Purgatory' and the Chinese province of 'A.R.G.U.S would like to own you now' pretty much took care of that.

But in the two years since he'd been back, things had changed. He'd changed.

If he didn't know that already, he would have figured it out today, when amidst everything else going on he found himself coming back to one central, all consuming focal point – _her._

Now, Oliver wasn't stupid enough to think he was in love with her. He was many things, and as fallible as he was, what he most definitely wasn't was naïve enough to think that he had the right to fall in love with her. Not today. Possibly not ever. But that didn't mean he didn't care.

It would take a stronger man than him, to not be able to care about Felicity Smoak.

Because, _in love_ or not, he was far from indifferent.

Not when her eyes lit up when she saw him, or when her head tilted just a little when she wanted to look at him, not when she stood up to him, and most definitely not when she told him in a million different ways that she unwaveringly believed in him.

And there was no doubt that she believed in him. Hell, there were times when she believed _for_ him.

He'd only just cracked open the door to his own room, when Diggle's thinly veiled threat struck him again.

Asleep, curled, carefully on the edge of his sofa, in what looked like pink flannel pajamas, one hand folded under her face, and the other tucked uncomfortably under the laptop she'd been working on, Felicity looked desperately wrong in his room. Desperate wrong, against the harsh marble and ostentatious grandeur of it all.

And yet in its own way it was all so right.

For the first time in his life Oliver Queen, tiptoed _in_, instead of _out_ of his room. Ever so quietly he slid his jacket off his shoulders, and draped it across the dresser, before moving to the bed and stripped aside part of the comforter.

Silently rolling up his sleeves, Oliver took four tentative steps till he was at the couch his blonde IT genius happened to be curled into, only to feel an unconscious smile tug at the corners of his lips as he crouched down to carefully pull off her already slightly askew glasses, his thumb instinctively running the length of her cheek as he did.

Later, he would wake up realize much to his own uneasiness that he'd been sitting crouched in front of her for so long, that at one point, he had not only slipped a careful palm under her cheek to cushion her against the hard edge of his pine table, but that he'd done so for so long, he was no longer crouched, but sprawled uncomfortably on the floor beside her, his own head resting against the arm of the very couch she had laid such obvious claim to.

But that would be much later.

* * *

_A Next Day,  
The CEO's Office, Queen Consolidated._

* * *

Truth be told, Felicity Smoak was feeling a bit flustered.

She'd just spent most of her morning on the phone with Thea, vetoing one over-the-top idea after another, while she simultaneously scoured her table for the three neat meeting minute folders she'd prepared for Oliver, Mr. Palmer and herself.

Hell she had less than ten minutes and she _needed_ those damn files. Mr. Palmer's secretary Ava had just called to inform her that Palmer would be bringing his personal council along for the meeting since he wanted to outline a few possible bids on the spot. He didn't expect Oliver to agree or disagree to any of them but even so, common courtesy dictated that she make up a file for the lawyer. Which she would do as soon as she could find the damn files, which would probably be a lot easier if she hadn't woken with a cushion tucked under her cheek, at Oliver's study table. His_ personal_ study table. In his _personal_ room. Oh God, this farce was going to be the death of her. She roughly dragged a hand through her already tousled hair as she crouched behind her table as if being an ostrich about the whole matter, would make it go away.

Now there was an idea.

Maybe she should add a wish to the ostrich routine. It was her birthday after all, it couldn't hurt. Her eyes tightly shut as she made fervent prayers and promises under her breath only to hit her on the underside of her desk with a resounding thwack as a deep voice asked, with more than a bit of amusement –"Is this a Starling Secretary thing? Cause in the right circumstance I could definitely appreciate the Secretary under my table thing you have going on."

Light blue bespectacled eyes clashed with sparkling deep blue eyes that mirrored the slow smooth smile that hitched at the corner of his lips.

For the briefest of moments, Felicity thought she was too speechless to babble. Only to watch with uncharacteristic silence, as the much-to-good-looking-for-his-own-good man extended a hand and introduced himself as he helped her out from under her table.

"Ray Palmer, at your service," he added with an irrepressible smile, "and you are?"

Felicity Smoak, who had just managed to scramble to her feet as the possible future owner of Queen Consolidated, smiled down at her had just been about to tell him exactly who she was, with just a touch of the chill she decided he merited for buying Oliver's Company out from under him.

However, before she'd managed to so much as open her mouth; she was cut off by an equally deep if definitely un-amused voice from behind Mr. Palmer as Oliver Queen bit out in a voice startlingly reminiscent to that of his very markedly unsocial alter ego – "_Mine._"

* * *

_A/N- Please don't forget to Read and Review! Feed the Muse People! 3_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four – 'Queen' Me**

* * *

"…then let me be clear, I do _not _particularly care if you see it my way or not. There will be no party. And Thea I'm warning you if you if you so much as _think_ of going behind my back to Felicity about this, I _will_ find out and I will be very _un_happy."

His hand going to his temples, as he pressed down on the now throbbing migraine he was getting, Oliver repeated to himself mentally the many reasons why he needed to put him best foot forward in his upcoming meeting. From Felicity's extensive reports, which had turned up everything from his future business partner's work ethic to his high-school grade sheet, Oliver had managed to create a mental game plan as to how he was going to deal with the man.

Sincere but firm was going to be his mantra of the day.

In fact, now that he thought about it, based on what he'd read, Oliver wouldn't be altogether opposed to allowing the man to step in as CEO. They were fifty-fifty partners after all and while the man was reputed to be somewhat of a recluse, a fact proved in that even Felicity hadn't been able to scrounge up a picture of the man since his college years, he was also reputed to be trustworthy.

Repeating his newfound mantra, Oliver, carefully slipped his phone into his pocket, and stepped out of the elevator at the designated 'ding', while simultaneously pulling out his 'Arrow' phone and ensuring it was on mute. That last mess up with Laurel last year had been very nearly disastrous, a fact Felicity could attest to, speaking of...

For a brief second in time Oliver's self-monologue seemed to pause as he processed what he was seeing.

Bright pink heels peeked from underneath her table, while the looming figure of an impeccably dressed man seemed to almost lean towards said table.

And then he saw the outstretched hand grasped by one much smaller, much daintier, and much more _his._

* * *

Ray Palmer was intrigued.

A scientist first and foremost, Ray was a true believer in the importance of research.

And never let it be said that he had not done his fair share, before walking into Queen Consolidated. Playboy billionaire, a multiple college drop-out, with an unfortunate bout of having been marooned on an island for five years. The man was obviously a survivor; he was also obviously entirely unconcerned about his business responsibilities if his past track record was anything to go by. Which was why he had been especially intrigued that he had managed to salvage it from the hands of Ms. Rochev, last year. Isabelle Rochev was the equivalent of the business world's very own vulture. She was manipulative , ruthless and entirely unethical, given what he'd gathered about her and Oliver Queen's Russian Romance, the fact that Isabelle hadn't yet staked her claim and reduced the Queen's to the proverbial Paupers, was more than a little intriguing.

Somewhere in the chain there had to be an anomaly he wasn't seeing. Someone was standing in the shadows and shepherding the CEO of this particular Fortune 500, and no one seemed to know who.

Initially he had thought, it was Moira Queen or her husband Walter Steele. Mrs. Queen's death had unfortunately paid rest to that theory, the step-father was still a possibility, but something told him it wasn't him. The man was a do-er not a guide. Finally, he had come to the hypotheses that Oliver Queen, had a guardian angel. All he had to do was identify who it was and then he could sit down and have a nice little chat with the brains behind the entire operation. After all, he was a reasonable man, he was willing to invest handsomely in this rapidly sinking ship with no strings and one simple caveat.

He was practically Queen's knight in shining armor. Well, perhaps not 'his' knight, he decided disliking the lexical ambiguity of the phrase, but _a _knight all the same.

Quite pleased with his rephrased monologue, Ray propelled himself towards the room he had been directed to, only to pause briefly at the sight of an empty desk and a particularly bright shade of pink peeping out from under the table.

His brow arching, Ray Palmer, carefully managed to maneuver himself around the offending desk to find himself faced with a delightful ball of hot pink, who if he wasn't entirely wrong, was _praying_.

Whatever else he may be, Ray realized, as his eyes swept the scrunched up length of the pink ball of fluff, Oliver Queen was a damn fine connoisseur of women. Taking in the desk and its proximity to the CEO's office, Ray quickly deduced the breathtakingly gorgeous, if slightly quirky blonde's position, as he drawled, meaningfully, as he mentally willed the young woman in question to look up at him, - "Is this a Starling Secretary thing? Cause in the right circumstance I could definitely appreciate the Secretary under my table thing you have going on."

3…2… and For the Love of _God,_ those eyes.

Startling blue, the color of wet blue velvet stared back at him so sharply, Ray had to fight not to catch his breath like a choir-boy.

Instead, he put to use every finely honed suave social skill he had mastered over the past years, as he added, with an irrepressible smile, "Ray Palmer, at your service, and you are?"

* * *

There were a great number of emotions running through Felicity Smoak as she sat underneath her office table, only to be ushered out by the man buying out the company of the man she wasn't supposed to have fallen for but did fall for as she happened to make her annual birthday wish.

There was annoyance, and anger. The was awe of course as well, the man was particularly fine, and then just as she thought she was going to go with the former two emotions evoked through the man's obviously presumptuous manner , a growly bellow seemed to tear through the suddenly confined arena her attached office provided and bit out the one possessive pronoun Felicity Meghan Smoak singularly detested.

"_Mine._"

Now, it wasn't as if it was Oliver's fault that a particularly handsy lacrosse player at college had decided to spend a year 'stalking' what he had succinctly labeled as _'mine'_ in his obviously steroid addled mind, during her freshman year at college. Nor was it his fault that as a subsequent result Felicity Smoak, _scholarship fellow_ to MIT had suddenly been reduced to the Computer Science's version of Elle Woods.

Glaring purposefully from the side of a particularly broad shoulder she couldn't look over despite her heels, Felicity opened her mouth to explain only to realize, she was no longer a part of the conversation. Mr. Ray Palmer, as he had introduced himself, was now directing a curious look over his own shoulder at her errant boss-crush-man, as he asked with suitable yet obviously feigned innocence, "'_Your_' Secretary?"

At the sight of the scowl now settling over Oliver's countenance as the other man's suggestive use of the word 'your', Felicity, quickly snatched her hand out of the other man's hand, only to snap, "His Executive Sec–"

"_Fiancée_."

Groaning audibly as Oliver's clipped voice cut through hers, Felicity quickly stepped back from Mr. Palmer's unusually warm proximity, and fixed Oliver with a pointed stare as she looked quickly back at the return of Ray Palmer's now once again arched brow as he observed, with damning blandness, "An Executive _Fiancée_. How …_fascinating_, do tell me more."

* * *

Oliver was going to pound the pompous prick into the ground.

Felicity who had now turned a bright red, at the man's deliberate misunderstanding of the situation, was still glaring at him from her point at her desk. At least she was at her desk now, and not standing beside it with her hand clasped in his like in a bad romance. The force of how repugnant that particular vision had been had surprised Oliver.

Suppressing the will to slowly tear the suited prick limb from Armani clad limb, Oliver carefully adopted the carefree playboy persona he'd honed to perfection for years now. His eyes carefully shuttered, he galvanized into movement, stepping carefully around the other end of the table in question until he was standing just behind Felicity.

With a perfectly crafted lopsided grin and with the careful pressure of his hands at Felicity's waist warning her not to contradict him, Oliver repeated with just the right hand of offhandedness, "Fiancée to you. Both to me. I'm sure you understand."

The answering smile on the other man's face was instant, unfortunately it wasn't Oliver to whom the answer was directed, his brow still arched sardonically, the man looked back at Felicity as he replied, with a swift look over her, "I'm sure I _do_."

Fortunately for all three of them, Walter chose that particular moment to walk into the office, and chirped up seemingly oblivious to all the tension in the room, "Ah! I see we've all met. Down to business then?"

Two very curt and one very frantic nod, were his reply.

* * *

_A/N: Be forewarned the review count is directly proportionate to the chapter size and update speed! Lol, JK, but I do love hearing from you guys so if you are enjoying the ficlet please do drop a line!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five – Playing Pretend**

* * *

_Present Day,_

_The CEO's Office,_

_ Queen Consolidated._

Lean fingers ran through immaculately groomed hair as the toned lithe form of a man more than merely acquainted with much more than glass window gyms and weights, Oliver Queen raised a carefully poured glass of bourbon and stood mutely at the window he had arrowed a man through not too many years ago. Even in the bright light of day, the memory was enough to make him clench his fingers around his glass, as he swallowed the burning liquid.

Three years ago he had dragged Felicity into a world she had no business being in. But he had done so with the belief that he could and would protect her.

Today, he was about to drag her into another world.

One just as volatile, just as vicious and just as dark.

He was about to pull her into the world of Oliver Queen.

And this time he already knew he couldn't protect her. Hell he thought, slamming his glass down at the edge of this table, hours ago he'd basically thrown her under the bus when he claimed her as his fiancé.

He wasn't blind.

He'd seen very clearly what Mr. Palmer had thought.

He had thought the same thing Isabelle Rochev had thought, only _he_ had seemed to think a bit further, and not with his brain either.

_Bastard._

It was that glint in his eye, that curiosity, as if he was entitled to look again, that had made him snap.

And just like that, one growled word later, out the window, went the weeks of PR planned 'whirlwind courtship'.

His slid his hand into the pocket of his now discarded jacket, and he pulled out the small black velvet box, its discreet logo a testament to the exclusivity of the store.

The sound of her impossibly high heels clicked loudly against the marble floors of the CEO's office.

"Is that it?" asked the almost hesitant voice he had, for reasons unknown, been aching to hear, ever since the end of the disastrous meeting.

Turning silently, Oliver silently took in the flowy white sundress trimmed with the palest hint of her trademark burst of color that had replaced her bright pink office wear.

His lips tugging in an errant smile, as he mentally contrasted the irony of her normal day wear being less ….'loud' than her regular office wear, he nodded, flipping back the boxed lid as he took a careful step towards her and drawled with just a hint of irony -

"Marry me, Felicity?"

* * *

To say that the meeting had been tense would be the mother of understatements. On one hand, Oliver had developed a sudden _growl_, on the other Mr. Palmer had seemed to spend the entire two hours alternatively antagonizing Oliver and quizzing him on topics even Felicity hadn't been able to anticipate.

And since she could hardly pass Oliver notes, without being obvious, she had sat there in damning silence as Ray Palmer provided a glimpse of what he was bringing to the table, while questioning albeit validly, exactly what it was the Oliver hoped to do, other than smile and look pretty.

It had taken every ounce of Felicity's self-control not to get up and slap that smug pointed smile off Palmer's face. Unfortunately, as much of an ass as the man was, he was also just as right. Oliver did not have the credentials to run a multi-billion dollar company, and his previous run as CEO didn't exactly speak well for him either.

But it was _his_ family's company for God's sake!

It was with these very thoughts fresh on her mind that Felicity strolled back into her office, pausing only to plop some of tomorrow's files, on her desk before she entered Oliver's own office.

His back turned to her, Felicity had just been about to reach out and tell him not to worry about the meeting, when out of the corner of her eye the tell-tale shape of a little black box made her catch her breath.

For a second, she had to remind herself that _this_, what they were doing was just a charade. Flushed, with embarrassment that she had had to remind herself, she asked in a faux cheery voice, still stained with a strain of hesitance, "Is that it?"

Even with her walls up, Oliver's silent perusal of her carefully handpicked summer dress flustered her.

But if his silent perusal had made her heart race, the following soft smile and arched eyebrow made it stop altogether as he flipped open the box and took a silent step toward her. His voice softly self-depreciating as he asked, "Marry Me, Felicity?"

For a second, Felicity froze.

Her eyes drifting down to where Oliver was now tugging the perfect emerald cut ring out and reaching for her hand simultaneously as if on auto-pilot.

It was that note of automation that snapped Felicity out of her daze, making her quickly snatch her hand back, only to hold her right hand out, palm up for the ring.

Oliver, who had stiffened ever so slightly, when she removed her hand from his, tilted her chin up.

Terrified, Felicity look defiantly back at him. It was bad enough that she was going to be wearing his ring, she didn't need memories of a fake proposal haunting her once this was all over.

After what felt like an eternity, Felicity felt him place the ridiculously large diamond at the center of her palm. Her fingers still trembling from her silent act of rebelliousness, they closed ever so slowly around its soft weight.

Forcing herself to unclench her hand, as she placed the ring on the requisite finger, Felicity reminded herself for the umpteenth time, that the last thing she wanted to do was fall any deeper into this charade than she had to.

* * *

This constant charade of nonchalance was grating on Ray. And bloody hell seeing her with her _fiance_, had gotten to him more than he let on.

Much more.

He had toyed briefly, with the idea of telling her exactly who he was, before he had reigned in his already frayed temper. Not yet.

He needed more time. Time to get her to see him as a person.

Going head to head with her 'fiancé' was already a risk, he didn't want to risk antagonizing her anymore than he had to.

But at the end of the day, he had four years on Oliver Queen's scant three. He knew more about Felicity Smoak than Oliver Queen could ever hope to. All he needed now, was time.

* * *

Thea Deardon Queen was positively, ecstatic!

Flipping carefully through the images, the PR team had leaked to the press, of Ollie and Felicity's 'friendly' stroll by the docks, was like watching a nervous Audrey Hepburn and a brooding Rock Hudson, they sure as hell photographed well enough.

Added together with the childish innocence of Felicity trying in vain to force-feed Oliver a ranch dipped calamari ringlet, from a paper sachet, her engagement ring glittering as it caught the late afternoon sun, was perfection on a platter.

Oliver's scrunched nose, and her laughing tilt to her head, as she wiped a smudge of the dressing of the tip of his nose, in the very next shot, was so candid, that _she_ almost believed in them.

If these pictures didn't humanize the Queen's nothing short of a chubby cheeked baby would. If she didn't know any better she would have said there was magic between the two.

Grinning as she tapped her perfectly manicured nail against the last picture, a close up of the brilliant Harry Winston original Oliver had handpicked, Thea wondered not for the first time, if just maybe, her brother hadn't finally found what he always seemed to be looking for. 

* * *

_Author's Note: _Hello! Thank you so much for the amazing feedback! You guys are what push me to update, if you are new of haven't reviewed yet please do read and review, reviews feed the muse you know!  
Also, if you're up for a bit of angst after that sucker punch of a premiere, try - s/10706085/1/Good-to-You


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